Harry's Heirdom
by FallenMuse54
Summary: Post OotP. No HBP or DH. Harry gets a letter from Gringotts that leaves him with a political powerhouse, a list of bachelorettes, and a freakishly hyphenated last name. Includes: Harry/Harem, Independent!Harry, Manipulative!Dumbledore, NO SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

_DISCLAIMER: Anything remotely recognizable or somehow similar to those epic masterpieces my cousin swears by (namely, the works of J.K. Rowling), belong solely to that esteemed authoress. Obviously, if you recognize anything else in here it's A: something I stole from you or your kin (unlikely, but humanly conceivable), B: from the dream you had last night (highly unlikely, although possible on the planes of cosmic chance), or C: a cliche (too likely for my taste and, unfortunately, very very probable)._

**Chapter 1**

**The Letter That Started It All**

The small, cramped bedroom was messy, messier than it had ever been before. Chocolate Frog wrappers, crumpled school robes, a set of Transfiguration textbooks, mismatched socks, and several editions of the Daily Prophet littered the floor along with a tarnished cauldron, a bag of Owl Treats, a pair of well-worn trainers, and a couple balding quills.

The fifteen-year-old wizard who inhabited the disorderly room stirred slightly, rolling over on the bed that would soon be too small for his 5'11" frame.

Harry Potter woke as an insistent tapping worked its way through his dreams. Opening his eyes, it took him a moment to register where he was; he had revisited the Department of Mysteries in his nightmares. But no, here he was, in the smallest bedroom of Number 4, Privet Drive, far away from anything strange, mysterious or magical.

Looking around to find where the tapping was coming from, Harry saw his owl, Hedwig, sitting on the frame outside his window with a patient look in her amber eyes.

"Coming, girl," Harry said, rolling out of bed. When the window opened, Hedwig swooped in, dropping a letter on his bed before settling herself in her cage.

"Thanks," Harry said, scrambling over to scoop up the envelope. Hedwig hooted sleepily.

The envelope was sturdy parchment and other than Harry's address, there was nothing more on the outside.

"Should I open it?" Harry asked no one in particular. Even Hedwig didn't answer, seeing as she had already drifted off to sleep.

Harry shrugged and tore open the letter.

It read:

_Dear Mr. Harry James Potter:_

_I offer you my sincerest condolences on behalf of Gringotts Bank concerning the recent loss of your godfather, Mr. Sirius Black._

_But, it pleases me to inform you that due to circumstances, there have been several changes made to your personal estate. Please attend a meeting with your advisors at 9 o'clock a.m. on July 2nd, that is, today, at Gringotts._

_It is understood that you are under surveillance by the Order of the Phoenix and also are currently abiding in the home of a family whose attitude towards magic is somewhat aggressive. Therefore, to make transportation easier for your, it has been arranged that this letter will activate as a Portkey at precisely 8:57 a.m. and will send you directly to Gringotts._

_This is a matter of extreme delicacy and importance, so I would ask you to keep the particulars of this meeting to yourself. If you have any questions, I would be delighted to answer them when we meet._

_May you gain much gold and vanquish your enemies._

_Regards,_

_Snapfang_

_Department of Inheritance_

_Gringotts Bank_

Harry stared at the letter for a moment. He had never before received a letter from Gringotts. He ran a hand through his untidy black hair. For all the nice, neutral words in the letter, Harry distinctly got the impression that he was not being invited to the bank. Rather, Harry was certain this was a summons, and one he should not ignore.

"Well, I guess I'm going to Gringotts," Harry said aloud. He sat for a minute on his bed before glancing at his watch and deciding that he should probably get ready.

As he dressed in hand-me-down jeans much too large for him and a T-shirt, Harry wondered vaguely if Dumbledore would be angry at him for leaving Privet Drive without permission or an escort.

Harry pulled his trainers on and reread the letter, getting especially puzzled when he saw the words "Department of Inheritance" under the signature.

"Inheritance..." Harry said, his voice trailing off, as if he was waiting for someone to tell him more.

Then, he felt a jerk behind his navel.


	2. Chapter 2

_DISCLAIMER: Okay, people... if I were JKR (if only!), would I need one of these disclaimer thingies? No. If I were JKR, I would announce my authorship with trumpets, cymbals, and fog horns. I would also sweep in riding a fiery chariot or a gas-guzzling Hummer. Do you hear any trumpets? Cymbals? Fog horns? I didn't think so. And if you are seeing fiery chariots... well, I'm not here to question your sanity. I'm just here to tell you that I do not own Harry Potter. Got it? Oh, and fiery chariot seers: please go see your local eye doctor, hypnotist, or psychologist, preferably in that order._

**Chapter 2**

**Black Revelations, Part I**

The peculiar sensation of being cast through space by magic ended abruptly as Harry slammed into a remarkably shiny hardwood floor. He still had not mastered the technique that would leave him on his feet after using a Portkey, so Harry found himself laying face down, his glasses skewed, but miraculously unharmed.

Getting up and straightening his glasses, Harry studied his surroundings. He was in a spacious, professional looking room. The walls were a rugged red embellished with a golden fleur-de-lis pattern that gave an air of sophistication. There were no windows, so the light that reflected softly off of the polished wooden floor must have been magical, though Harry couldn't see where it was coming from. One end of the room was completely taken up with an ornate marble fireplace.

A chuckle from behind him brought him out of his inspection. Harry whipped around, his wand drawn, to see a goblin sitting behind an enormous oak desk that had not been in the room moments before. Stacked on the desk were piles upon piles of what must have been legal documents.

"Welcome to Gringotts, Mr. Potter," the goblin said. "That was rather a spectacular entrance."

"Er... thanks," Harry said uncertainly, letting his wand drop several inches. "But you are...?"

"Beg pardon. I am Snapfang, Head of the Department of Inheritance. Please be seated, Mr. Potter," the goblin said, motioning to the red-cushioned chair sitting in front of his desk.

Harry returned his wand to his back pocket and sank into the designated chair with a questioning look on his face. "Uh, I got a letter this morning and-"

"Yes, yes. You're in the right place, Mr. Potter. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get moving, we have much to discuss," Snapfang said.

"Right," Harry said, and settled into his chair. "So what is this all about, exactly?"

"As we both know, your godfather Sirius Black was murdered not too long ago." Snapfang paused. "I offer you a goblin's sympathy, for what it's worth," he said in a lower voice. "I knew Mr. Black. He was a very clever man."

Harry was puzzled by the comment, but then concluded that cleverness must be highly thought of in goblin society.

"But what does Sirius have to do with anything?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, you see, the Gringotts Inheritance Inspectors found Mr. Black's will yesterday. Here's a copy of the document." Snapfang handed Harry a sheet of parchment. It read:

_I, Sirius Orion Black, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and all that rubbish about being the sole surviving male heir, etc., the Marauder known as Padfoot, and the sometime Dog called Snuffles; being of sound mind, body, and magic, hereby bequeath in the event my death (which has already occurred if you're reading this) the complete and considerable estate of the House of Black, as well as my own personal effects and the responsibilities that go with it all, to a one Mr. Harry James Potter, my godson and only heir._

_To keep the legal crackpots from getting their knickers in a twist, I, Sirius Orion Black, also hereby adopt Harry James Potter posthumously, giving him the name of Harry James Potter-Black, although he should only use this ridiculous surname at parties when he's trying to impress girls. Jointly, to avoid making him wait for all the goodies mentioned above, I, Sirius Orion Black, hereby propose -- actually, I order -- the immediate emancipation of Mr. Harry James Potter-Black if he is still underage, believing him to be completely capable of shouldering an adult wizard's lot. _

_Signed,_

_Sirius Orion Black_

_Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_

Harry hoped the goblin didn't see his tears as he read the signature he had always looked forward to see on letters the previous year. After scanning the will again and finding himself bogged down by all the legal language, Harry looked up at Snapfang. "Er, so what does this actually mean in plain English?" he asked.

Snapfang replied, "This document states that you are the adopted son of Mr. Sirius Black, his only heir, and officially emancipated. Congratulations, Mr. Potter-Black!"

"Me? Sirius's son?" Harry said.

"Yes indeed, Mr. Potter-Black. And, as of your emancipation, you are now qualified as a full-fledged wizard."

"So I can do magic outside Hogwarts?" Harry asked, trying to process the information.

"Naturally. I would go into further detail as to the particulars of your emancipation, but we need to keep moving." The goblin pulled out a large envelope from one of the piles on his desk. "As stated in your godfather's will, you have inherited everything possessed by the Black family.

"We honestly don't have time to review all of your assets because it is an exceptionally substantial amount, but let me give you a quick rundown: included in your newfound wealth, you have gained the Black town house at 12 Grimmauld Place, London, as well as the Black ancestral home of Sable Seigniory located in the British countryside, along with several prominent wizarding businesses, priceless art-related heirlooms, and a dozen or so smaller residences scattered throughout Europe.

"If you have any questions about your material inheritance specifically, feel free to ask."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Snapfang continued to talk.

"As the adoptive son and only heir of Mr. Sirius Black, you also inherit the title Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. As your godfather mentioned in his will, this position comes with several responsibilities.

"Firstly, as Head, you are therefore the Magical Patriarch of the House of Black, meaning you wield enormous power over the members of your family and it is your job to act in a manner fitting to represent them. The post allows you to make decisions for the Black family as a whole."

"Um, so who are the members of the Black family, exactly?" Harry said.

Snapfang smiled, showing all of his pointy white teeth. "There are five people other than yourself who can claim the honor of belonging to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. The first of these is Bellatrix Lestrange."

Harry's blood boiled. "Her?! I'm her Patriarch?! SHE KILLED SIRIUS!!"

Snapfang blinked. "Yes."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'YES' ?? YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!! SHE-she... she killed Sirius..." Harry's voice became muffled as he buried his face in his hands.

"Oh, I do understand, Mr. Potter-Black. The woman you know as Bellatrix Lestrange killed my family, too, many years ago."

Harry looked up, seeing the ugly little goblin in a very different light. "What?"

"Yes. Rather a tragedy. But, Mr. Potter-Black, you are Mrs. Lestrange's Patriarch. Do you have any idea how much power you wield over her?"

Harry shook his head, but his green eyes became greedy. "What kind of power are we talking about? Could I order her back to Azkaban?"

"Unfortunately, Patriarchs do not yield that particular brand of power over their family. No, I am speaking of something much more subtle. Patriarchal power lies on the civil plane of a family's affairs." Snapfang smiled his pointy smile once again. "For example, as Ms. Lestrange's Patriarch, you could order the nullification of her marriage to Mr. Rodolphus Lestrange, which would cause her to revert to her previous identity of Bellatrix Black, making her your legal charge. And of course, if she was your legal charge, it would be a very simple matter to have her arrested." Snapfang winked. "Just a suggestion."

Harry leaned forward. "How do I do that?"

"Oh, it takes a Herculean amount of paperwork and the proper authorization is an absolute nightmare to procure. The process could last for years, with all the legal hoops you would have to jump through to get anything done."

Harry's face fell.

"On that note, just sign on the dotted line, Mr. Potter-Black." Snapfang pushed a piece of parchment towards Harry and offered him a quill.

"You mean...?" Harry began.

"I foresaw this development and pulled a few strings in the Department of Birth, Marriage, Death, and Subsequent Haunting at the Ministry to speed up the process. As soon as you sign this document, Bellatrix Lestrange will cease to be and you will be the legal guardian of a Miss Bellatix Black."

Harry grinned and grabbed the quill from Snapfang, signing his name on the line at the bottom of the parchment with gusto.

Snapfang took the page back and, after briefly looking it over, nodded with satisfaction. "Everything seems to be in order." Then, lowering his voice, he said, "Thank you, Mr. Potter-Black. You and I are now one step closer to justice."

Harry said, "Cheers."

Snapfang cleared his throat. "As I mentioned before, there are several other Black family members apart from yourself. Aside from the newly reinstated Miss Bellatrix Black, they are Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, her son Draco, Mrs. Andromeda Tonks, and her daughter Nymphadora."

"Wait a minute. Why do Malfoy and Tonks -- I mean, Draco and Nymphadora -- count? Their last names aren't Black," Harry said.

"Ah, but they do have Black heritage through their mothers. Magical law states that a Patriarch has civil authority over anyone who shares the family blood, which includes Mister Draco and Miss Nymphadora," Snapfang explained.

"Right," Harry said.

Snapfang rustled a pile of paper in front of him. "Mr. Potter-Black, I would like to suggest to you the nullification of Narcissa Malfoy's marriage to Lucius Malfoy. You yourself know better than anyone that Mr. Malfoy is a Death Eater, a fact that the public at large is now aware of since his arrest at the Ministry. This is an ideal rationalization for breaking up the couple. He, being a criminal, could not possibly be providing your cousin Narcissa with a safe and solid home, especially now that he's been sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban."

"Okay... but what's in it for me?"

Snapfang's eyes glinted with a cruel sort of satisfaction. "Nullifying the Malfoys' marriage would cause Mrs. Malfoy to once again become Narcissa Black and Draco Malfoy would be considered the illegitimate son of a single parent. Both Narcissa and Draco would be filed into your protective custody. Now, with Lucius Malfoy locked safely away and his only heir under your guardianship, you, Mr. Potter-Black, could make things happen. The Malfoy estate represents a significant amount of money, influence, and notoriety. For the time being, you could use the Malfoy name to exert a radical amount of political power in the wizarding world."

Snapfang paused, but seeing Harry's riveted stare, continued. "You will only be able to claim this power while Draco is underage. As soon as he turns seventeen, young Mr. Malfoy will be able to reclaim the estate. This means that the time to act is now. A couple of years should be enough time for you to turn around the Malfoy reputation and affect some major changes in areas of your choice." Snapfang handed another sheet of parchment to Harry. "All it takes is your signature, Mr. Potter-Black."


	3. Chapter 3

_DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to Jo, kapish?_

**Chapter 3**

**Black Revelations, Part II**

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter-Black," Snapfang said as Harry handed back the nullification document he had just scrawled his name on.

The goblin filed the parchment away in a thick folder and said, "Jabknee!" to the fireplace across the room. Harry turned to glimpse the whoosh of flame that always preceded the arrival of someone travelling by Floo powder, but unlike the emerald fire of his previous Floo experiences, Harry noticed that the Gringotts flames were a crackling grey.

A small, round goblin who was obviously younger and less experienced than Snapfang stepped out of the grate and stood at attention. "Yes, sir, Mister Snapfang, sir? Sir, you called? Sir?"

Snapfang rolled his toady eyes. "Take the Malfoy file back to the crypt, Jabknee."

Jabknee scurried over to Snapfang's desk. "Yessir, right away, sir. I'll do just that, Mister Snapfang, sir."

"Thank you, Jabknee." Snapfang was in the middle of handing the file over to Jabknee when, suddenly, his eyes widened and he snatched the file back. Harry watched, vaguely interested, as the older goblin flipped hurriedly through the folder until he found whatever it was he wanted.

"Actually, Jabknee," Snapfang said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "Take this to Toewrath in the Lineage Department. Tell him I want a full report on this file and any file connected with it. Got that, Jabknee?" Snapfang shut the folder with a loud thump and handed it to the flustered Jabknee.

"Yessir, I got it, sir. Just like you said, Mister Snapfang, sir. Get the file to the crypt. No, wait, Lineage. Wrathtoe- no, Toewrath, in Lineage, sir. Got it, sir." Jabknee saluted and marched back to the fireplace, where he announced grandly, "Department of Lineage Research!" before stepping into the swirling silver flames.

Snapfang snorted. "Interns."

Harry smiled, but leaned forward and asked, "Er, Snapfang, sir? If you don't mind me asking, what was that about?"

Snapfang chuckled. "Let's just say I have a hunch that might benefit you, Mr. Potter-Black."

"Right," Harry said, still confused. "But I-"

"Hungry, Mr. Potter-Black?" Snapfang clapped sharply twice, and a huge tray laden with eggs, bacon, hash browns, pancakes, ham, sausage, toast, marmalade, tea, coffee, milk, pumpkin juice, and scones suddenly appeared before Harry.

Harry's stomach grumbled at the sight of the food. He hadn't eaten before being whisked away to Gringotts.

"Please, tuck in!" Snapfang said distractedly as he searched for something amid his stacks of folders. "I hope you do not mind that I continue discussing legal matters as you eat?"

"Sure. And, uh, thanks." Harry helped himself to a piece of toast and several fried eggs.

"Good." Snapfang flipped open another folder. "Now, there are several other Black family clauses, contracts, and suchlike that I must bring to your attention. Please listen carefully, Mr. Potter-Black, because they affect you directly. Very directly."

Harry looked up from his fourth egg and nodded.

Snapfang cleared his throat. "The first item on our agenda concerns a magical contract made between two pureblood families the House of Black and the House of Greengrass."

Harry, who had been searching for the pepper, found it hiding behind the steaming pot of Yorkshire Gold.

"Years ago, an agreement was made between Orion Black and Dionysus Greengrass that the eldest son of the House of Black would marry the eldest Greengrass daughter when they came of age. But, due to the fact that Orion's eldest son --your godfather, Sirius-- was accused of mass murder, the union never took place.

"But, after a thorough investigation of the Black family documents, our Inheritance Inspectors have found that the contract is still intact, dictating that you, the new eldest son of the House of Black, are to marry the eldest eligible direct female descendant of Dionysus Greengrass. I believe the girl is about your age. Her name is Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."

Harry spat the pumpkin juice he had been drinking back into his cup. "WHAT?" he bellowed. "I'm supposed to get married?!"

Snapfang looked calmly at him. "Yes. And now that you are emancipated, the wedding can take place as soon as it is convenient for the bride."

"But- but," Harry spluttered. "I'm fifteen! She's fifteen! We're way too young to be getting... married!"

Snapfang sighed and shook his head. "You have been emancipated, Mr. Potter-Black. Therefore you are officially of age. Age has no factor in this agreement other than that the Black participant is, I quote, 'of age.'"

Harry began to grasp at straws. "But Snapfang, sir! Daphne is a Slytherin!"

"Yes." The goblin fixed Harry with a sardonic eye. "But it is a matter of family honor, and you have no way of escaping the contract. It was magically sealed years ago."

Harry opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish out of water.

"Look on the bright side, Mr. Potter-Black. This is an alliance with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass. The Greengrass family are quite active in important wizarding circles and they have many connections you could use to your advantage. And, Miss Greengrass is your age and quite pretty by human standards, I hear. You could have ended up with a hag four times your age."

Harry ran his tongue over his dry lips. "I- I guess," he said weakly.

Snapfang smiled approvingly. "Well, I'm glad you understand the situation, because another very similar to it is next on our agenda.

"A couple of years after the Black/Greengrass marriage arrangement, Orion Black sought a proper pureblood wife for his younger son, Regulus. He then struck up an agreement with Hector Zabini, Head of the House of Zabini. This marriage contract was also magically sealed, and similarly was never fulfilled due to Mr. Regulus Black's involvement with the Death Eaters which ultimately resulted in his untimely death. This contract, too, has been carried over to you as a family obligation that demands you marry Hector's only eligible direct female descendant: Miss Blaise Zabini."

Harry choked on the piece of sausage he had just popped in his mouth.

"Ex- excuse me?" Harry wheezed. "But it sounds like you're telling me that I've got to marry two different girls according to family agreements. But I can only marry one, can't I?"

"Nonsense, Mr. Potter-Black! You labor under the false impression that a wizard can only marry once. But, conveniently for you, in wizarding society there are no laws that prohibit a wizard from marrying multiple times. It is true, that not many wizards choose to marry more than once --I believe the last instance was over a hundred years ago-- but if you look at a history of magical lineage, you will find that long ago many wizards opted to have a harem."

Harry swallowed. "A- a harem?"

"Yes. A group of women living together, all having some relations with a single man, usually along the lines of wedlock," Snapfang said primly.

"I know what 'harem' means, thanks," Harry said angrily. "But there's a lot of difference between knowing what it means and actually having one."

"Understood, Mr. Potter-Black. But I am afraid that considering your heritage, having a harem may be unavoidable."

Harry's stomach gurgled sickeningly and he wondered if some of the eggs he had just slurped down might make a reappearance. _What's with you?_ he said to himself. _Most guys your age would be thrilled to be getting a harem. Think about it, mate, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini. Not so bad for being forced into saying 'I do', huh? Sure, they might be Slytherins and pureblood maniacs, but they're like Slytherin pureblood maniac _goddesses_. Just give it a try... not that you have a choice._

"Okay. I'm listening," Harry said, wondering what Snapfang could have in store for him next.

"Good," Snapfang said, pulling out yet another sheet of parchment. "Now, there is also a matter of Black family tradition. Every seventh generation, the Black heir is required by custom to marry their cousin to preserve blood purity. You, Mr. Potter-Black, happen to fall into a seventh generation. The only cousin eligible in your case is the daughter of your aunt Andromeda and her deceased Muggleborn husband, Ted Tonks. I believe you are acquainted with Miss Nymphadora Tonks?"

"TONKS? You're telling me I'm supposed to marry TONKS?" Harry cried.

"Indeed. That's not such a problem, is it, Mr. Potter-Black? I've looked into Miss Tonks and she seems to be a stable personality." Snapfang scanned his parchment. "Let's see. Twenty-one years old, Metamorphmagus, junior Auror. Good temperament, only slightly clumsy, and it says here that she likes professional broom racing."


	4. Chapter 4

_DISCLAIMER: None of it's mine, people._

**Chapter 4**

**Wives Every Which Way**

"I... I guess," Harry said sulkily.

"Splendid. Now, I believe that brings us to the end of the Black family file." Snapfang rifled through a folder, gave a satisfied grunt, and set the folder aside. Harry sighed when he saw the goblin reach for another file, and served himself a stack of pancakes.

"The next item to be discussed is the Potter family affairs," Snapfang said. "Now that you are emancipated, you can claim your full Potter inheritance. I won't go into all the legalistic mumbo-jumbo, but in short, you are now the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter and the Magical Patriarch of the House of Potter. Congratulations."

"Er, thanks," Harry said.

Snapfang coughed. "I will now skip to the urgent matter of a binding family contract the Inheritance Inspectors found among your parents' legal papers. According to your file, you've inherited a binding contract with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Bones, resulting in your engagement to Miss Susan Bones."

Harry grunted and drowned his pancakes in more syrup. It wasn't even worth reacting anymore; he had gotten the message when Snapfang put excess stress on the words "binding family contract."

"Interestingly," Snapfang continued, "the Potter family file directly connects to the Prewett file because your father's mother, your paternal grandmother, was Regina Prewett, who kept her maiden name even after marrying your paternal grandfather, Eric Potter. Which means, of course, that the Prewett name was passed to you through your father. So, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce you officially Mr. Harry James Potter-Black-Prewett."

_Interesting development, _Harry mused as he drew pictures with his fork in his leftover syrup.

Snapfang kept talking. "And because you are the last male with Prewett blood and bearing the Prewett name, you are by default the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Prewett and the Magical Patriarch of said family."

"Cool," Harry murmured, wondering when the goblin was planning to hit him with a couple more 'binding family contracts.'

"There is also several contracts in the Prewett file that we must discuss, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett," Snapfang said.

_Here they come, _Harry thought. _Just don't react, mate._

"The first is a marital agreement that was made between the Prewett family and a Mr. Priam Dagworth a century ago. But, the contract was never fulfilled because the Dagworth family seemingly died out shortly thereafter. But the Department of Lineage Research has found a living descendant. Her name is Hermione Granger."

Harry leapt out of his chair, then sat hastily. So much for not reacting. "Hermione?" he whispered. "I'm engaged to Hermione Granger?!?" At Snapfang's nod, Harry slumped in his seat and groaned. "She is going to kill me."

"That would be in violation of the contract-"

"Oh, she is going to kill me with a spork, eat my heart with tartar sauce, and dump my ashes into Moaning Myrtle's toilet," Harry moaned, his face in his hands.

"Er, may I continue, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett?" Snapfang said uncertainly.

Harry looked up. "Go ahead. Don't mind me. I'll just sit here and contemplate my doom."

Snapfang hesitated. "You know Miss Granger cannot kill you, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett."

Harry nodded grimly. "But that won't keep her from trying, Snapfang."

"Of- of course." Snapfang cleared his throat. "But back to business. Along with the Dagworth agreement, there is another inherited contract in the Prewett file. This one is very routine; it simply states that the Prewett heir must marry a daughter of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Abbott, which, in this case, is Miss Hannah Abbott." Snapfang held his breath, wondering if this contract would receive the same melodramatic reaction the previous one had.

Harry served himself some coffee, dumping seven sugar cubes into the cup along with a drop of cream. "Mm-hmm."

Snapfang rolled his eyes. They were back to the minimal reaction tactic. "And that concludes the pressing matters in the Prewett file," he said, putting said file away and pulling out a fancy, yellow-and-black trimmed file. "Now this is interesting, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett. Because you have ascended to the position of Head of the Prewett family, you automatically become the Heir of Hufflepuff because the Prewetts were direct descendants of Helga Hufflepuff.

"This adds Hufflepuff to your surname and makes you Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff. Naturally, that also makes you the Magical Patriarch of the Hufflepuffs, but that won't do you much good at the moment because you are the first person to be part of the family in several hundred years."

"Right," Harry said, leaning back in his chair.

"Now, there are various inherited marriage contracts in the Hufflepuff file. Interestingly, all the girls involved have Asian ancestry; the Hufflepuff family was renowned for extending a hand of friendship to the Far East."

Harry poured himself another cup of coffee.

"I won't waste time with the backstories to each of these contracts, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff, so it pleases me to inform you that you are now engaged to Miss Cho Chang, Miss Su Li, and Miss Parvati Patil."

Snapfang pulled out yet another folder. "Am I right in thinking that your mother's maiden name was Evans, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff?" he asked.

Harry looked up. "Yeah. She was Lily, Lily Evans."

"Then I believe that is the next file we should peruse. In spite of common assumption, your mother was not a Muggleborn."

"What?" Harry said sharply.

Snapfang flipped through several sheets of parchment. "Yes... according to this lineage report, your Evans grandparents were, in fact, wizards."

"There has to be a mistake. My mom was a Muggleborn! Dumbledore says so, everybody says so!" Harry cried.

"The Department of Lineage Research does not make mistakes, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff," Snapfang said, narrowing his eyes beadily. "Your mother's father, Gregory Evans, came from a very old wizarding family, as did your grandmother Athena. And, considering your mother was the elder child, you are next in line to be the Head of the Household of Evans. This, naturally, gives you the surname Evans."

_Fourth one today,_ Harry thought to himself.

"Also, in the Evans file we have two inherited marriage contracts. The first engages you to Miss Alicia Spinnet and the second engages you to Miss Katie Bell."

Snapfang scanned a slip of parchment that had been tucked into the Evans folder. "Ah... According to the old family records, your maternal grandmother Athena did not take the name Evans when she married Gregory. Instead, she chose to keep her maiden name, which was McGonagall."

On hearing the last name of his Transfiguration professor, Harry's eyes flicked away from his bacon.

"This development naturally gives you the surname McGonagall. It also makes you the Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of McGonagall, as well as the Magical Patriarch of the family.

"This is because, though Athena was by far the youngest of the three McGonagall sisters, her two older siblings renounced their place in the family line. Minerva, the eldest, gave up her birthright to instead pursue her education. She is now a professor at Hogwarts, as you no doubt know. The second McGonagall daughter, Pallas, disappeared from the family records after she married a Muggle and renounced the magical world."

"Uh-huh," Harry mumbled, wondering when Snapfang would get around to telling him what girls he had to marry as a result of the newest addition to his name. _Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall, _he thought. _If _I_ wasn't the one toting around that mouthful, I'd probably laugh._

"Surprisingly, the McGonagall file has only one binding contract. They result in your engagement to Miss Ginny Weasley."

Harry's heart plummeted past his toes. He was engaged to Ginny Weasley, the first girl to be born to the Weasley family in generations. Ginny Weasley, who in true Weasley form had a fiery temper to match her flaming red hair. Ginny Weasley, who has six overprotective older brothers and a hellcat for a mother. He was worse than dead.

"They're going to kill me. Mrs. Weasley is going to knock my brains out with a frying pan. Mr. Weasley will set all his charmed Muggle junk on me," Harry said out loud. Snapfang ignored him.

"Stemming from the McGonagall file is the Ravenclaw file, seeing as the McGonagalls are the only known descendants of Rowena Ravenclaw. This makes you Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Ravenclaw, and adds the title to your ever-growing surname." Snapfang pulled out yet another piece of parchment.

Harry continued his review of his impending fate. "Bill is going to curse me to Egypt and back. Charlie'll probably unleash a dragon or two on me. The twins won't do anything to my face yet, but somewhere, someday, I'll meet up with their ultimate joke."

"In the Ravenclaw file," Snapfang continued, speaking slightly louder to be heard over Harry's mumblings, "there is a single marriage contract. It concerns a very ancient agreement made between the Ravenclaws and the Clearwaters. Your engagement to a Miss Penelope Clearwater is the result."

"Ron'll go ballistic, no telling what he'll do. Ginny herself will probably treat me to one of her famous Bat Bogey Hexes. And Percy'll finish the job by boring me to death." Harry sighed heavily. "Kind of a poetic justice, I guess. The Weasleys, the family that welcomed me into the wizarding world, are going to take me out of it."

Snapfang coughed significantly. "Speaking of the Weasleys, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw, but it has come to Gringotts's attention that you are, in fact, a Weasley."

Harry was stunned out of his train of thought. "Come again?"

"You," Snapfang repeated slowly, "are a son of the House of Weasley."

"But how is that possible?!? I'm- I'm not related to them!" Harry cried, a look of utter confusion on his face.

Snapfang fixed Harry with a solemn stare. "It all comes down to the fact that, though the Evanses magically adopted your mother Lily and officially made her their heir, the Evanses were not your mother's biological parents. Didn't you ever wonder where your mother got her red hair? And her notorious temper? Lily was a Weasley, all right."

Harry stared. "What? Are you joking? This is crazy. Crazy!"

"Yes, it is crazy, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-_Weasley_. Crazy, but it is also true.

"Your mother's real parents were Uther Weasley and his wife, Morgause. So, properly speaking, your mother's name was Lily Weasley-Evans. Of course, she dropped the name Evans when she married your father, but she could not have forfeited the name Weasley because she did not know she bore it. Therefore, you add Weasley to your surname."

"This is nuts, Snapfang! I'm a Weasley?" Harry rubbed his temples. After a few moments, he looked up and laughed a tad hysterically. "I'm a Weasley! But- but my mum was a Weasley?"

Snapfang cleared his throat. "I believe we should save that explanation for a later date, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley. But, there is more to bearing the name Weasley than meets the eye in your case. As the grandson of Uther Weasley, you are the sole heir of Godric Gryffindor."

"You have got to be kidding me." Harry's voice was flat. Suddenly, he cracked a grin so big it would have been considered maniacal if his eyes hadn't been dancing with sincere excitement. "You have got to be KIDDING me!"

"Eh, no." Snapfang wondered why the naming of Gryffindor caused such enthusiasm in the teenager across from him, but then the goblin remembered that Harry Potter belonged to the Gryffindor House at Hogwarts.

Still smiling, Harry leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. "So how do I manage that? Heir of Gryffindor, wow."

"Well, as it happens, House of Weasley is directly descended from Godric Gryffindor. But you see, Gryffindor was the youngest of seven sons, so he inherited nothing from his father; what fortunes he eventually possessed were gained by the labor of his own back and the power of his own magic. But, Gryffindor did not want to pass on the bane of being the last born, so he arranged that his estate would be inherited by the youngest son of his descendants, rather than the eldest. Uther Weasley, your grandfather, was the youngest son in his family. He would have inherited the Gryffindor fortunes, had he not been killed so suddenly two decades ago. The inheritance skipped your mother's generation because Uther had no sons, but you are his youngest grandson, making you the rightful heir."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Whew. That's pretty cool that Gringotts figured that out."

Snapfang nodded. "Actually, if you had not come along, Gringotts might have been forced to give the inheritance to either Dudley Dursley, the son of Uther's elder Squib daughter, or to Ronald Weasley, whose grandfather was Uther's older brother and whose father was the youngest of three."

Harry felt revulsion that Dudley might have ended up with Godric Gryffindor's treasure. But he also felt a pang of guilt when Snapfang mentioned Ron, who had always lived in Harry's shadow. _I guess it can't be helped, _Harry thought. _But what Ron doesn't know can't hurt him._

"Well, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor, there are a few matters concerning the Gryffindor inheritance that we must discuss," Snapfang said. "Naturally, you add Gryffindor to your surname, and you also assume the post of Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor, as well as the position of Magical Patriarch of Gryffindor. By extension, you also hold the position of Elder in the House of Weasley."

"And what does that mean, exactly?" Harry asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"The title 'Elder,'" Snapfang replied, "is usually given to the heads of separate nuclear families within a House. You, of course, do not yet have a family proper, but are given the title honorarily, considering your relations. Elders serve as a sort of council within a House, aiding the Magical Patriarch, who is officially the Head of the extended family, with decisions regarding family politics and domestic justice. And, when the current Patriarch dies, he chooses from the Elders the man he thinks best suited to be the next Patriarch."

"Right," Harry said, trying to process the chunk of information the goblin had just given him about wizarding families.

"Now, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor, there are several marriage contracts in the linked Weasley/Gryffindor files. They engage you to Miss Lavender Brown, Miss Luna Lovegood, and Miss Angelina Johnson, as well as to Miss Demelza Robins, who is the result of a piggyback contract to the arrangement with Miss Johnson."

"I'm getting the feeling, Snapfang," Harry said, "that I'm pretty much cornering the marriage market." He sighed and began toying with the remains of food on his breakfast tray.

"That brings us to the end of the urgent matters in the Weasley/Gryffindor affairs," Snapfang said in a satisfied tone. "Next we move to the inheritance you gain from Uther Weasley's wife and your true maternal grandmother, Morgause Flamel."

Harry looked up. "Flamel? As in, Nicholas Flamel?"

Snapfang looked delighted -- well, as delighted as a goblin can look. "You've heard of Nicholas Flamel? My confidence in contemporary wizarding education has been restored! Yes, actually. Morgause Flamel was Nicholas Flamel's great-great-great-great-great granddaughter, and through her, you inherit the name Flamel and, as Nicholas and his wife Perenelle just passed away, the position of Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Flamel, along with all the heirlooms possessed by the family."

Harry couldn't help himself. "Does there happen to be a mirror among the heirlooms?" he blurted.

Snapfang blinked. "I honestly do not know, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel. In his lengthened lifetime, Nicholas Flamel collected and created countless magical marvels. You'll have a chance to go through the inventory later, though, if you wish."

"Great. Thanks, I really appreciate it," Harry said, banishing all thoughts of the Mirror of Erised from his mind. "You were saying?"

The goblin cleared his throat and scanned the parchment he was holding, looking for the place where he had left off. "So, in the Flamel file, there is only one binding marriage contract. It concerns a magical agreement of marriage between the House of Flamel and the House of Capet, an ancient French wizarding family. At best, the conditions of the contract are sketchy because the arrangement was made so long ago, and there was also the difficulty that the Capets married into the lines of other families without making it a priority to continue their own family name. But, we have finally been able to find a descendant family of the House of Capet, another French family by the name of Delacour. Their elder daughter is now your fiancee, and interestingly, she is one-fourth Veela. Her name is Fleur Delacour."

"Fleur?" Harry said huskily, his mouth having gone dry. _Whoa there, mate, _Harry told himself. _Get those hormones in check! Just because you've found out that you're engaged to that statuesque blonde- stop it! So you're going to marry Fleur Delacour, big deal. Yeah, it is a big deal, though. Fleur Delacour!_

"Erm, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel?" Snapfang's voice broke through the haze of Harry's thoughts. "That concludes the Flamel file."

"Huh?"

"May I continue?" Snapfang asked, looking questioningly at Harry over the packet of parchment he held in his claw-like hands.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, go ahead." Harry settled back in his seat. "I'm all ears."

"Well, the next item on your inheritance agenda is linked to your Flamel heritage. You see, Perenelle Flamel was the sole surviving descendant of Merlin."

Harry's eyes widened. "Wow..."

"Yes, 'wow' is exactly the right word for this situation," Snapfang said, the corners of his mouth crinkling. "You are the heir of Merlin."


	5. Chapter 5

_DISCLAIMER: The author of Harry Potter is a British multi-millionaire. I am an American teenager who can't afford to go to the movies. Infer what you will._

**Chapter 5**

**The End of the Beginning**

"Heir of Merlin, huh?" Harry said. "I'm guessing that's significant."

"Significant?! Of course it's significant!" Snapfang cried. "You are the only living descendant of the most revered wizard of all time!"

"Right."

"Actually, it's not just significant, it's MOMENTOUS!"

"Yeah."

"THIS IS PROBABLY THE SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT INHERITANCE IN THE HISTORY OF MAGIC!"

"I get the picture, Snapfang."

Snapfang, who was standing on his desk atop mountains of parchment and family files with his stubby arms spread in an 'I'm the king of the world' gesture, looked down at Harry somewhat sheepishly. "Beg pardon, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys."

Harry quirked his eyebrows. "Emrys? But I thought you said I was the heir of Merlin."

Snapfang hopped off his desk and settled himself in his chair before answering. "Yes, you are the heir of Merlin, but Emrys was the great wizard's surname. You didn't know that? My confidence in contemporary wizarding education is nil, once again."

"Er, right," Harry said. "So, are there any marriage contracts I need to hear about?"

Snapfang rifled through what Harry assumed was the Emrys file. "Actually, no. There are no marriage contracts in your Emrys inheritance."

Harry began to stand up.

"And where do you think you are going, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys?" Snapfang demanded.

Harry's jaw dropped. "There's MORE?"

"Yes, there's MORE. What made you think we were finished?" Snapfang said curtly.

"Well, how exactly are you hoping to top Merlin, Snapfang?" Harry asked, plopping down in his seat once again.

Snapfang ignored Harry's impertinent question and continued. "There are several other matters we must attend to before this meeting ends, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys. Firstly, we must discuss your adoption."

"Excuse me?" Harry said, his green eyes snapping.

"Your adoption. It has come to our attention that not long after you were born, your mother's best friend magically adopted you as her son. Your mother did the same with her best friend's son, who had been born hours before you yourself. This magical bonding affords you a place in the Longbottom family."

"Are you telling me," Harry said slowly, "that my mum was best friends with Neville's mum?"

"Indeed. And their friendship lives on in the bond they made to the other's son. By adapting ancient familial bonding spells, Lily Potter and Alice Longbottom entered a sort of surrogate motherhood. Both swore that if one should die, the other would care for the child left behind. This is how you gain the name Longbottom." Snapfang's ugly face was solemn. "Such is the power of a mother's love."

"So, really, Neville is like my brother?" Harry said after mulling over Snapfang's words.

"Yes. And, as I said before, being thusly adopted, you may claim a place in the House of Longbottom that cannot be contested."

"That is so-" Harry began, but he was interrupted when the young goblin Jabknee stumbled out of the fireplace, coughing.

"Mister Snapfang, sir!" Jabknee wheezed, hobbling over to the desk. "Sir, I have the report you wanted from the Lineage Department, sir!"

"Bring it here," Snapfang barked and snatched the file from Jabknee as soon as he held it out. "Hmph," the senior goblin mumbled as he scanned the report. "Ahem, thank you, Jabknee. You may go."

Jabknee bowed and was retreating to the fireplace when Snapfang called him back.

"And take the breakfast tray with you!"

"Yessir, right away, sir." Jabknee grabbed the tray and flung himself into the silvery flames in the hearth. "Kitchen!"

Harry turned back to Snapfang and looked pointedly at the file in the goblin's hands.

Snapfang cracked one of his pointy smiles. "Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom, it is my pleasure to announce that my theory was correct."

Harry asked, "What theory?"

"The theory that somewhere in this file," the goblin brandished the thick folder, "there was a loophole. And there was."

"And it has something to do with lineage," Harry guessed.

"Yes! You see, I sent the Malfoy file to my good friend Toewrath in the Department of Lineage Research. I wanted to see if there was anything more we could use from that angle. Here is what Toewrath came up with."

"I'm listening," Harry said, leaning forward in his seat.

"Well," Snapfang started pompously, "You were responsible for imprisoning the Malfoy Head of House, Lucius Malfoy. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, at the Ministry a couple weeks ago."

"And you are also the Patriarch of Narcissa, and have forcibly nullified her marriage to Lucius Malfoy, thereby returning her to her previous identity of Narcissa Black, and have placed her in your own protective custody. Am I correct?"

"Yeah. I signed the nullification form earlier."

"And you are also, by extension, the guardian of her son, Draco. Am I correct?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Snapfang laughed, a grating sound. "Then you, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom, can step in and take the position of Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy. On one condition: you must marry Narcissa."

"What?!" Harry yelped.

"Think about it, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom, this would be a definite boon to your estate. That, and you could then be certain that Lucius would never be able to use his wealth or connections for the ill of the wizarding world. Don't you think that's worth it?"

Harry sighed, all the fight going out of him. "I guess you're right, Snapfang. I'll do it."

"Wonderful! Now, if you would just sign here, we can seal your engagement to Narcissa so the plan will be foolproof."

Harry signed.

"And," the goblin said as he took back the marriage contract, "this adds Malfoy to your surname. Congratulations."

"Thanks, I think," Harry said resignedly.

Snapfang flipped through a stack of parchment. "Now, there are a few things in the Malfoy file that are now transferred over to you as Head of House. The most important concerns a marriage contract, which was originally meant for Draco. It engages you to Miss Pansy Parkinson."

Harry swore under his breath, but otherwise did not react.

"And, you are now master of the Malfoy ancestral home, Malfoy Manor."

"Ooh, they were pretty creative to come up with that name," Harry mumbled.

Snapfang smiled indulgently. "But back to why I sent the Malfoy file to the Lineage Department in the first place. I was nearly certain we would be able to work out your Headship of the family, so I wanted to make sure that we squeezed out all the inheritances we could from this. Toewrath reports that the Malfoys are distant cousins of another ancient wizarding family, the Gaunts, who disappeared about fifty years ago. The only living Gaunt is, in fact, the Dark Lord."

Harry froze. "Voldemort?"

Snapfang coughed uncomfortably at the sound of the name. "Yes. But, the Dark Lord has rejected all our offers to establish him in his rightful place as Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gaunt. So, by the power vested in me by Gringotts Wizarding Bank, I now pronounce any of the the Dark Lord's claims of relation to the Gaunt family as null and void.

"In the same breath, I pronounce Harry James Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy the sole heir of the Gaunt family, making him the Head of the House of Gaunt and adding Gaunt to his surname."

"Um, thanks," Harry said.

"My pleasure, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt. But we are not finished just yet. The Gaunts, Toewrath reports, were the last living descendants of

Salazar Slytherin. This makes you the heir of Slytherin."

"And that's good, right?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Yes! Most definitely, yes." A pointy goblin smile. "This adds Slytherin to your surname and engages you to Miss Celestina Warbeck."

"Warbeck... where have I heard that name before?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Ms. Warbeck happens to be a renowned singing sorceress who is regularly featured on the Wizarding Wireless Network," Snapfang supplied helpfully.

"Right." _So I'm marrying a diva._

"Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin. May I bring your attention to the fact that your last name contains the surnames of all the Hogwarts Founders?"

Harry thought for a moment. "Hey, you're right!"

"This," Snapfang explained, "indicates that you are a descendant of all four Founders, meaning you are entitled to the overseeing of Hogwarts."

"Are you telling me I'm the... Headmaster?" Harry asked, wondering if he had heard right.

"Indeed," Snapfang said, grinning.

"But I'm still in school!" Harry cried.

"Well, technically, it means you can change anything you want concerning the school. If you feel someone else will govern the school better than you can right now, you may appoint a Head in accordance with your opinion. But, even if you choose someone else to be Headmaster, you still may exercise enormous amounts of influence at Hogwarts. Look at it as if you are the Head behind the scenes."

"Then the first thing I definitely want to do is sack Snape. Could you see to that, Snapfang?"

"Immediately!" the goblin said gleefully.

"Great," Harry said, wishing he could see the look on Snape's face when he got the news that he'd been fired.

After a minute of silence, Snapfang leaned forward to fix Harry with a steely stare. "Now, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin, I think it is high time that we discuss the monetary gains your estate has undergone since the beginning of this meeting."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Monetary gains?

"Ahem," Snapfang began. "Firstly, you come into possession of the entirety of the Potter fortune due to your emancipation."

"What do you mean, the 'entirety?'" Harry asked. "I've seen the vault, I go there every year to get money for school."

Snapfang looked astonished. "Surely you do not think the money contained in Vault 349 is the entire Potter fortune! Why, that would be what your kind call a joke! No, no, _no_, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin, the Potter fortune is much more sizable than what you have been shown. Why, that is only your trust fund!"

"Oh," Harry said, not sure how to respond to this piece of news.

"In addition," Snapfang continued after a moment, "you are also the sole beneficiary of the Black family fortune, apart from the stipend Sirius provided for a Mr. Remus J. Lupin. Other fortunes you have inherited include the Prewett fortune, the Hufflepuff fortune, the Evans fortune, the McGonagall fortune, the Ravenclaw fortune, a large share in the Weasley fortune, the Gryffindor fortune, the Flamel fortune, the Emrys fortune, a share in the Longbottom fortune, the Malfoy fortune, the Gaunt fortune, and the Slytherin fortune."

Harry was floored. "Wow. I mean, wow! I always knew I was pretty well off, but-"

"Well off? Sir, the Potter fortune alone makes you one of the wealthiest wizards in England! And now that you've come into so many other inheritances, you can realistically assume that you are the richest man -- wizard or Muggle -- on the continent, and probably the world! You couldn't spend all your money in a thousand years if you wanted to! 'Well off,' bah!" The goblin was obviously impassioned by his proclamation of Harry's riches.

"Good to know," Harry said. _Harry Potter, the richest man in the world, _he thought. _I like the sound of that._

"Er, since you're not pulling out any more files, I think I can go now, right?" Harry asked hopefully. "What time is it, anyway?"

"It is seven o'clock," Snapfang replied after examining a handsome silver pocket watch.

"Seven?" Harry asked, not believing his ears. "We've been here all day?"

"Indeed," Snapfang said. "I understand your desire to close this meeting, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin, but there is one last thing. We need to set up consultations between you and all your fiancees as soon as possible."

Harry groaned. "Is that really necessary, Snapfang?"

"Indeed," the goblin replied. "You'll need to discuss the particulars of each marriage with each girl and her parents."

Harry paled.

"But don't worry," Snapfang added quickly, "I'll be right there the entire time to coach you through it."

Harry smiled weakly. "Thanks."

"Look at the bright side, it'll give you a chance to scope out your future wives," Snapfang said, waggling his nonexistent eyebrows suggestively.

"Right," Harry said, already more cheerful.

"But back to business. When would the meeting be most convenient for you, Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin?"

"Well, any time is fine, Snapfang. I don't really have a life during the summer," Harry said. "And you know, it's okay if you just call me Harry or Mr. Potter. Every time you say my new name, we waste about a minute of our lives."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, I am honored. And I will personally owl each of your fiancees at once and schedule an interview with each girl and her family. Would it be alright if we began the meetings tomorrow, Mr. Potter?"

"That's fine." Harry thought for a moment, then added, "Actually, if you can get them all together tomorrow morning, we can talk about the more general points of this mess as a group so we won't have to go over the same things over and over again. After we do sort of an overall meeting, I'll meet with each individual family to go over the finer points."

"Good thinking," Snapfang said approvingly. "If we do that, we may be able to finish all the consultations tomorrow. Now, Mr. Potter, will you be needing a Portkey back to Privet Drive?"

Harry hesitated. "Er, actually, Snapfang, I was hoping I could stay in Diagon Alley tonight. I'd really rather not stay at my uncle's."

"Understood. That would be more convenient, as well. In fact, Mr. Potter, I think we can arrange a room for you here at Gringotts. We keep a series of guest rooms handy in case legal meetings run overtime, et cetera. Would you like a team of goblins to go fetch your things from Number 4?"

Harry nodded. "That'd be great. Except, well... you see, the Order of the Phoenix is watching the house, and I really don't feel like answering any questions about where I've been."

Snapfang winked. "We will treat the errand with utmost delicacy, I assure you. Is there anything you need particularly?"

Harry thought. "Uh, if possible, just have them bring it all. I don't plan on going back to Privet Drive."

"Very well. Everything will be arranged," said Snapfang. "Good evening, Mr. Potter."


	6. Chapter 6

_DISCLAIMER: It's mine, all mine. Just kidding._

**Chapter 6**

**Nearest and Dearest (Or Not)**

Harry woke up in a deliciously warm king-size bed, wrapped in soft blankets and surrounded by rather a lot of pillows. It took him a moment to remember that he was not at Privet Drive, but rather, in the Dignitary's Suite at Gringotts Wizarding Bank.

In Harry's opinion, this was even better than the Hogwarts dormitory. For one, he had the room to himself. That meant no snores constantly keeping him awake. And, it meant not having to interact with people as soon as you woke up. Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, Harry put them on and surveyed the room.

The color scheme was silver and grey, and apart from the bed, the room contained two large couches, a coffee table, several cabinets, a writing desk, an en-suite bathroom, and a walk-in closet.

Harry got out of bed and wandered around, taking in the detail of the decor in a sort of daze. A daze that was promptly smashed to smithereens by the noisy arrival of Jabknee in the gilded fireplace.

"Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin, sir," the junior goblin spluttered. "Sir, Mister Snapfang requests your presence, sir, in the annex adjoining the auditorium. Immediately, sir!"

"But I-" Harry began.

"Please, sir," Jabknee said, motioning frantically for Harry to join him in the fireplace. "We're already late!"

"Late? Late for what?" Harry asked trotting over and standing just in front of the grate.

"Your _consultations_, sir." The little goblin was near to tears, and probably would have cried if he hadn't had a job to do. "With your women!"

"My wo-?" Harry's eyes widened. "Merlin's beard! Get me to that auditorium or whatever _right now_, Jabknee!"

***

Harry and Jabknee tumbled out of the annex fireplace, landing in a haphazard jumble of limbs at the feet of Snapfang, who just about danced for joy at the sight of the two.

"Mr. Potter! Where in the world-" Snapfang broke off mid sentence as Harry disentangled himself from Jabknee and stood up. "Mr. Potter, would you kindly explain what kind of impression you are hoping to make on your fiancees and future in-laws by showing up dressed like _that_?"

Harry looked down and realized he was wearing only his baggy cotton pajama bottoms. "Um..." was his eloquent answer.

"By Gringott himself," Snapfang said in exasperation, "you look as if you just rolled out of bed, Mr. Potter."

"Uh, I did," Harry said, feeling stupid.

"You... did?" Snapfang repeated. Then, he turned on Jabknee. "I TOLD YOU TO HAVE HIM UP AND _READY_, JABKNEE! DOES HE LOOK _READY_ TO YOU?!"

"Mister Snapfang, sir, I-" Jabknee faltered.

"THIS MIGHT AS WELL BE THE MOST IMPORTANT MEETING OF OUR CAREERS AND YOU BRING THE GUEST OF HONOR IN HIS... in his... in his _pajamas_." Suddenly, Snapfang was laughing his grating goblin laugh. "I'm- I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter," he chortled, "but you- you have to admit, it's a tad amusing. Pajamas, for Gringott's sake!"

Harry smiled. "No need to be sorry. But if you, uh, don't mind, I'd rather not go out and see everybody dressed like this."

Snapfang wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "I completely understand. Jabknee, go fetch a formal robe ensemble from the WizardWear prototype vault. Go!"

Jabknee, obviously relieved that his boss was in better spirits, jumped back into the fireplace. "Level Two!" he cried, and disappeared in a burst of grey flames.

"While we wait, Mr. Potter," Snapfang said, turning back to Harry, "let me give you a couple of suggestions on how to act in the upcoming meeting. Of course, you must be courteous and polite, but do not promise anything to anyone. During the first part of the meeting, in which you'll be addressing everyone at once, keep the mood general and reassuring.

"When we hold the private consultations family by family, stick with the agenda: introduce yourself, try to learn the names of the people you're dealing with, and then simply ask for the questions or concerns anyone might have. Keep your answers honest and to-the-point."

"Right," Harry said, hoping he would remember those tips. "Thanks. But, uh, Snapfang? Is there any chance I could eat breakfast?"

"Jabknee didn't _feed_ you?!" Snapfang cried indignantly.

Just then, the junior goblin reappeared in the fireplace, holding a set of charcoal black robes.

Snapfang snatched the robes from Jabknee and gave them to Harry. "Hurry, put these on. They're part of WizardWear's newest line, Fit To Charm, so they'll instantly alter to fit you."

Harry slithered into the luxurious outfit that felt as if it had been made for him. "Perfect," he said.

"Good," Snapfang said. "There's nothing I can do about your breakfast at the moment, I'm afraid, but how's this: I'll have tea and sandwiches served as soon as the private consultations begin."

"That'll be fine," Harry said, squaring his shoulders. "Okay. Let's do this."

***

The only time Harry had ever been on a stage was during his Sorting in first year. But even that had been better than _this_. The Sorting Hat had come down around his ears and covered his eyes so that, while everyone could see him, Harry could not see anyone. Stepping on to the auditorium stage with Snapfang, Harry realized that this was to be a wholly different experience.

As soon as he walked out, he felt the eyes. And worse, he could see them. And many of the eyes now trained on him belonged to people he knew, people who knew him. There were whispers, and pointing fingers. Expressions of surprise, and contempt. The Weasley family sat in a row halfway back, to the left. Their red hair stood out amidst sea of people but their faces were blurred with distance, and Harry wondered what they were thinking.

Snapfang introduced himself, his voice magically amplified to fill the high-ceilinged room. Everyone seemed to hang on the goblin's every word, and it occurred to Harry that no one knew why they were here.

A sudden, pregnant silence brought Harry back to the functioning plane of reality, as did an elbow in the gut from Snapfang.

"Say something," the goblin said out of the corner of his mouth.

It took Harry a moment to register what he meant. And then his lips went dry.

"Say something," Snapfang repeated.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hi," he croaked.

Snickers.

"Um, I'm Harry Potter."

Derisive snorts and a full-fledged laugh from somewhere in the back.

That did it. "Actually, my name is Harry James Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin and I have called this meeting to discuss with all of you some major changes that are about to take place in many of your lives. Needless to say, I am involved in these changes."

Harry glanced at Snapfang, who nodded encouragingly.

"You see, it has come to my attention that I belong to fifteen ancient wizarding houses. And due to this revelation, I am required by a number of binding magical contracts to marry, not once, but multiple times. Each family represented in this assembly has a daughter or a sister who, by fate and familial agreement, has been thrown in with me as one of my future wives. I would like to assure all of you that I will do my very best to be a good husband."

There was an abrupt quiet when Harry stopped talking; then the room exploded with sound as everyone began talking at once.

"Please! Please everyone, settle down!" Snapfang called over the chattering crowd. "We will answer all of your questions in due time. At the moment, we would like to begin private consultations with each family."

The buzzing of voices decreased, though the occasional shout still punctuated the air.

"Mr. Potter," Snapfang said quietly. "Who would you like to see first?"

Harry thought. "The Weasleys. And Hermione."

Snapfang once again raised his voice. "Will the Weasley party and the Granger party please proceed to the annex for their consultation?" The goblin tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Come, Mr. Potter."

***

Harry sat, uncomfortable. His discomfort had nothing to do with the cushioned bank chair he sat in and everything to do with the eight faces across the table. Eight faces that were set with grim outrage.

"Ahem," Harry said, hoping to break the thick, intense silence that had entered the room around the same time everyone had sat down.

Wrong move.

Mrs. Weasley leapt from her chair and shrieked at the top of her voice. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, HARRY POTTER?!?!?!"

Harry winced and shot a look at Snapfang, who sat next to him.

"Sit down, Molly, dear." Mr. Weasley's voice was tight with tension.

"But-" Mrs. Weasley started, but clamped her mouth shut when her husband yanked her back into her seat.

The goblin cleared his throat. "Now, we are here to discuss the marriage arrangements between Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin and Miss Weasley, as well as with Miss Granger," Snapfang said primly, pulling two sheets of parchment from a briefcase.

"Mister Snapfang, I don't mean to be rude, but what the hell are you talking about?" Bill Weasley growled, putting a protective arm around Ginny.

"Yeah!" Fred and George said in unison.

"What marriage agreement?" Hermione asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"Is this even legal, goblin?" Percy inquired snottily.

"SHUT UP!"

Everyone stared openmouthed at Harry, who had slammed his fist into the tabletop.

"Temper, temper," someone said.

Harry turned to look at the girl of about thirteen who was perched, cross-legged, in her chair at the far right end of the conference table, next to Hermione. She was a small, birdlike figure with a mop of unruly brown curls and a face Harry would have called delicate if it hadn't been twisted in a smirk.

"Uh... who are you?" Harry asked rudely.

The girl rolled her eyes and Hermione said, "Harry, this is my sister, Helen. Helen, this is Harry."

"Pleasure, I'm sure," the girl said, scrunching her nose. "And it's Lenny, not Helen."

"You have a sister?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Obviously," Lenny drawled.

"Well, yes," Hermione answered, looking away. "She's actually only my half sister, though. My mum had an... affair with one of her patients years back and Helen is the, erm, result... She's been living with her dad and going to boarding school and she wasn't supposed to know about magic or anything. I don't know why, but it doesn't really matter anymore..." Hermione was talking very fast now. "Her dad just recently got married and dumped her with us a couple of weeks ago.

"But you see, my mum and dad have just been through a rather nasty divorce, and Mum moved to America and probably won't come back, and Dad, well, the divorce has hit him pretty hard, he tried to kill himself last Tuesday, so Helen... Lenny... is with me," Hermione finished lamely, unshed tears threatening to leak down her face.

Ron, who was sitting next to her, snaked his arm around Hermione's waist, but she shook him off and said, "Look, I didn't mean to get off topic..."

Tentatively, Harry leaned forward and took Hermione's small hands in his.

"Hermione," he said, gazing into her glistening brown eyes, "I'm going to take care of you, I swear. And Lenny. It's all going to be okay."

Hermione simply nodded, but just before he let go of her hands, he felt her squeeze his fingers.

"Hey, I don't mean to break up the moment," George said loudly, "but we're all still wondering what we're doing here."

"Yeah," Ron spat, glaring daggers at Harry.

"Tea? Sandwiches?" Jabknee asked brightly from the doorway. The junior goblin was pushing a trolley loaded with platters of egg salad sandwiches and a large, steaming teapot, as well as cups, saucers, and napkins.

"Yes, thank you, Jabknee," Snapfang said, motioning to the other goblin that the women should be served first.

When everyone had been provided with tea, Arthur Weasley opened his mouth.

Snapfang held up a mottled, long-fingered hand. "Mr. Weasley, before you barrage us with questions, don't you think it would be fitting if Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin got the chance to tell his side of the story?"

Mr. Weasley cleared his throat somewhat sheepishly. "Naturally, naturally."

Harry felt Snapfang nudge his arm. "Oh, right." Harry collected his thoughts and began, "Well, yesterday morning, I got a letter from Gringotts..."

* * *

It took about half an hour for Harry to tell a somewhat abridged account of his previous day at Gringotts. At the end of his narrative, there was a rather awed pause.

Then, Percy, who was very red in the face, burst out, "Did I hear your right, back there? You are going to marry Penny Clearwater?"

Harry furrowed his brow, trying to remember the list of fiancees Snapfang had rattled off when Harry couldn't remember them all.

"Yes," the goblin answered for Harry. "Mr. Potter-Black-Prewett-Hufflepuff-Evans-McGonagall-Ravenclaw-Weasley-Gryffindor-Flamel-Emrys-Longbottom-Malfoy-Gaunt-Slytherin is indeed engaged to Miss Clearwater."

"I won't allow it!" Percy said passionately.

"Uh, excuse me?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"I said I won't allow it!" Percy fumed. "Penny happens to be my girlfriend!"

"Yeah," barked Bill. "And Fleur's mine!"

"And you're forcing Hermione to marry you!" Ron spat. "You've stolen girls from three of us Weasleys, Potter!"

For the next minute, pandemonium reigned in the meeting room. Bill, Percy, and Ron had whipped out their wands, all three with a murderous glint in their eyes. Harry, too, drew his wand and yelled to Hermione, Lenny, and Ginny to get under the table.

Following a split-second decision, Fred and George leapt from their chairs and joined Harry.

Spells flew back and forth, Mr. Weasley was Stunned, several chairs burst into flame, and Mrs. Weasley was sobbing hysterically in the corner.

"ENOUGH!"

Harry, who had just jumped from the back of his chair with the intention of tackling Ron, suddenly felt the peculiar sensation of hanging motionless in the air.

Snapfang stood in the doorway, surrounded by ten goblin guards holding slim sliver batons.


End file.
